Dreams
by pen.maiden.myself
Summary: Percy Jackson is the son of a god, a boy whose luck never runs out - what would happen if that erroneous luck ran out? Warning: character death and angst.


_Author's Note: Angsty Percy Jackson one-shot written for Soft-falling-Raindrops._

In my dreams, the sun always rose and set over the marble pavilions and rolling hills of New Rome. Dream Annabeth and I resided in one of the little two-bedroom houses, miles away from danger and hidden in a bright light that death could not penetrate. It was perfect. We could each fulfill our dreams. Annabeth was a full-fledged architect for both the Greek and Roman camps, and I was the main source of advice whenever a young camper received a quest. We were happy. We loved each other, we loved what we did, and we enjoyed a perfect life that no one could shatter.

Of course, this was only a dream. Real life went a little more like this:

CLANG! BASH! BANG! The roar of a monster nearly shattered my eardrum, and I had to duck in order to avoid its long, poison-tipped claws. I didn't know what the heck this thing was. From what I could remember, there was no such thing as a sheep-headed, wolf-bodied, poisonous creature in either Greek or Roman mythology. Maybe the monsters had decided to interbreed? Ugh. I shook that idea out of my head quickly.

"Percy!" Someone yelled at me, anger lacing their tone like a million tiny spears. I knew that brand of anger all too well. "Good grief Seaweed Brain – at least bring your sword into battle!"

"Riptide will appear any minute, Annabeth!" I jumped, barely missing the spiked tail of the monster that was chasing me. My jeans pocket was still empty.

_Come on, Riptide, _I thought out to my magical sword, _it's now or never!_

Suddenly, I felt the pen in my pocket.

I shoved my hand into my pocket and pulled out the pen. After uncapping it, I felt its form magically shift in my grip from a small ball-point pen to a large, perfectly weighted sword that molded perfectly with my fingers. The breath of the monster was hot on my neck. If I could make this turn properly, its head would be on the ground in a matter of seconds. Hopefully it wasn't one of those head-regenerating monsters.

I turned and thrust the sword.

"PERCY!"

A hot, burning liquid seared into my chest. I stood completely still, my body in shock. Riptide fell from my grip and clattered onto the ground, leaving me defenceless. Annabeth... Annabeth was saying something to me. What was she saying? I tried to make out her words, but the poison in my chest had reached my ears. My whole body was burning. I couldn't hear, I could barely see; with a sudden jolt, I realized that my turn hadn't been properly calculated. There was no magic antidote this time.

This time, I was dying.

In a slow-motion hurricane, I fell to the ground. My bones ached more than usual when I collided with the pavement. Ugh, why had I chosen to fight in a parking lot? I couldn't remember. Weirdly enough, I couldn't remember anything. It was like my head was clouding over with dust.

"Percy," The word was a terrified half-squeak. I knew that voice, but I couldn't rightly place it. Her name... it started with a B, didn't it? No, I think it was an A. Ally, Anna, Abigail...?

"Annabeth," My voice was barely a croak. I felt fire and ice slicing up my nerves. It was hard not to move, yet stability was the only thing keeping me partially sane.

"Oh my gods Percy, what have you done? Y-you idiot! I..." Her voice wound down into a long, hard sob. "You need to open your eyes. Open your eyes right now!"

I couldn't do it. I tried, but my eyes were glued shut. Suddenly, I felt a cold, harsh blow against the side of my face. I coughed, and my eyes flew wide open. Annabeth's long blonde hair was cascading down towards where I lay, framing her face in a rather cute manner.

"Ow," I muttered. "I l-love you t-too, Annabeth,"

She hid her face behind her left elbow and took in a deep breath. She was crying. Oh no, this was not okay. Annabeth didn't just cry. Something... something had to be wrong. What was wrong? Oh, right. I was dying. This was just peachy.

"I love you." She sobbed. "Listen to me; I'm crying my eyes out. I should... I should be thinking of something! I can't let you die. I don't know... oh gods, I need to get an Apollo camper over here. You can't just –"

"Shh," I murmured. "A-Annabeth... it's going to be... a-all right. We're going to live in New R-Rome, okay?"

She took in a long, painfully sharp breath. "O-okay... but I'm g-going to build it, S-seaweed Brain."

I attempted a smile. "Yeah; and w-we gotta... we gotta get married, okay? Maybe have some kids. Y-you know. Not yet. Give it a f-few years." A sudden surge of pain raced through my heart, and I screamed. Even holding up the Earth on my shoulders had been less painful than what I was experiencing right now. I just wanted it to end.

"Don't get me flustered w-when I'm crying." Annabeth said in between sobs, her tone infused with equal amounts of humour and heartbreak. "That... that would be nice, Percy,"

It would be nice. I started imagining it, just thinking about what our lives would be like when we finally reached that untouchable place. New Rome would mean more than just family for Annabeth and me; we would be able to live a life together that was safe. We would be free from all of the things we'd been fighting against our whole lives in order to survive.

"Annabeth Chase, I love..."

And then, suddenly, I was in New Rome, free of pain and holding hands with a young woman with long blonde hair and a worn-out baseball cap.

I was home.


End file.
